Brothers contamiNated
by Raven Ehtar
Summary: A has committed suicide & B is left questioning the agenda of the Wammy House. But instead of running away to LA, he stays… and begins shaping one of Wammy's finest into a weapon of revenge. Rated for imagery, psychological trauma and gore. No pairings.
1. Part 0

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Death Note__ and related characters © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. __Death Note: Another Note__ and related characters © NISIOISIN._

…

…

…

"_The end justifies the means."_

_Does it? Stop for a minute and think about it. Think of something specific that would justify any means you might need to employ in order to achieve it. Do you have it? Can you picture it clearly? Feels good, doesn't it? To have something that you've longed for and believe you would do anything to get._

_Now imagine yourself killing someone. And I don't mean by shooting a gun from twenty paces and then walking away. Who really ever feels they've taken a life by pulling a trigger? No, try stabbing them. Imagine needing to use your strength to force the blade through muscle, of feeling the metal scrape against bone, the tickle along your arm as blood begins to trickle. Here you're close enough to watch as they die. To see the pain, the confusion, the fear, perhaps even the betrayal as everything they were or might have been starts to slip away. You're close enough to hear the little noises they make, the half-whimpers and wet sobs. _

_The sight, sound, smell, and feel of their death are all yours. Maybe even the taste if you have begun to breathe through your mouth, fighting for breath as your heart beats too fast and your skin goes numb. The taste of iron and salt clinging to the roof of your mouth, sticking in your throat. _

_Was what you wanted worth this? If a death were the means, did the ends make it all okay? Was this person's terror and suffering justified?_

_Of course, not all examples are so extreme. Not all trinkets or ideals require bloodshed._

_Theft, for example, can be used and is used quite often to get what one wants or needs and is perfectly justified in the eyes of the one doing the stealing, and sometimes those not involved, as well. A father or mother may rob in order to feed their children. A nurse might appropriate the drugs her boyfriend needs in order to deaden his pain, and would otherwise go without due to lack of funds. A store clerk may 'misplace' a few packets of cereal to see to it the beggar on the corner doesn't go hungry._

_These are all examples of small harm being done to achieve a greater good. In these examples no one is hurt, or the damage is so diffuse it's hardly worth mentioning, and someone who was suffering benefits. Easy to justify, isn't it? But then again, these are small gains, as well. They may not seem small, and certainly not insignificant to those reaping the benefits of them, but in the big picture, they are. Little to no harm done to benefit one or two people for a short time._

_What if the gain offered were larger? Would it be surprising to learn that the harm done to achieve it will correspondingly increase? It may be a little harder to justify what is needed to get to the reward at the end, now… but if the goal is important enough, if it's… _precious_ enough… Well, then, what's a little pain on the way to a greater good? You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, right? Pff, another clichéd term to avoid responsibility._

_And if the goal, the objective at the end is a safer, cleaner world where everyone would benefit? Of course, everyone wants that. A world where you can live not in fear, but in the assurance that you are safe and protected… there are any number of atrocities people would be willing to ignore to realize that dream. _

_Never mind that a safer world tomorrow means the suffering of innocents today. _

_We at the Wammy House, an institution posing as an orphanage when in reality it was a training ground for the homeless and gifted, we could be said to have been very lucky in our lot. Taken in from the streets, where we would have starved, frozen or fallen prey to the worst of human predators, we were given everything we could want. Homes, beds, food, warmth, education - the best education imaginable - and certain privileges no other orphan would think to even ask for. From the outside, it probably looked as though we had fallen into the gutter only to land on a golden lily pad. But anyone on the outside wouldn't have understood what it was we had to do to __**keep**__ these things, what we had to suffer to keep our golden lily pad. _

_We were told we were the hope of the future, that we could become the saviors of tomorrow if we studied hard and trained our minds and bodies to become what would be needed. We were told that we were special, that we had a purpose. We, mere orphans with no families or homes or futures to speak of, were told these things. The clouds of despair or resignation that hung around us began to lift, and we hoped. We hoped and we dreamed of what we could become, and we threw ourselves into whatever it was the Wammy House asked of us._

_We were led to believe that the institution cared for us as individuals. In a way, they did. We each offered something unique that the others did not, we were each a distinct source of potential. But we were still orphans. We were dregs, with no real attachment to the world around us. There was no family to retaliate or even answer to if something were to happen to us. And to the Institution, we were just experiments. The home and safety they offered, though it was never said in so many words, was conditional upon our performance. If we failed the Institution and what they were trying to achieve, that would all be taken away as easily as it had been given. It was never said, but it was demonstrated often enough, when one or more of us would drop too low in scores, and would disappear. Transferred to another facility, never to be heard from or checked on again, their fate once again relying on chance._

_If you are drowning in the sea swarming with sharks, and a lifeboat miraculously appears to fish you out, you're not in any rush to try swimming again. We did what we were told to do, struggled through Wammy's programs, and endured. For us, it was the only choice, because out in the world lurked the monsters of our pasts. Monsters we were not in a hurry to meet again._

"_The ends justify the means"? More like "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." It was all, in theory, a good idea. But the same can be said for the worst kinds of butchery humankind has ever experienced: that it all started as a good __**idea**__, or a good __**intention**__. Wammy's only cared for us as their preciously trained soldiers. When we were no longer progressing as they thought we should, we were shunted aside and replaced with more capable recruits. Our continued residence depended on our performance at things that most adults would have struggled with. Sickness was dealt with quickly because ill bodies made ill minds and ill minds cannot perform. The same with the occasional injury, and our psychological evaluations. _

_And, of course, with all this pressure to remain in the Wammy system, competition was inevitable. If anything, it was encouraged. It was believed, I think, that healthy jostling would bring out the best in us. A little added pressure to really kick us into high gear. _

_I don't think any one of us really realized how bad it was until A killed himself. He couldn't handle the pressure, and instead of admitting defeat and returning to whatever life he'd led before, or even dropping below 'perfect', he ended his life. Possibly the best friend I had ever known, and he was gone in an instant. All because of Wammy's insatiable drive, run on our sacrifices._

_How did the Wammy House respond to A's death? They didn't. Life and the programs continued as though nothing had happened, with barely even a word to mark that A was gone. The pressure that had killed him, if anything, increased._

_That was my final straw, the final piece of the puzzle I needed to see exactly what kind of place I'm living in, and what I'm paying to keep it. I've decided that it's too high, and I intend to get a little bit of my own back. I intend for the whole Institution to feel it, but mostly, I'm targeting the one at the center of it all. Wammy's is an organization, it's true, but it's all run by and catering to one man, and it's him I want to hit the hardest._

_L._

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but the hell I'm choosing is edged out in self-aware conceit. _

_The ends I am reaching for do not justify the means I intend to use. The means I will use, there is no way to justify._

… _It's a good thing I'm not looking for justification._


	2. Part I

_**A/N:**__ Alrighty, to anyone and everyone who read the first chapter, (which will heretofore be referred to as Part 0), in all of it's confusing, Author-explained-nothing glory and is still here, you are awesome! Thank you for sticking with me! And, for fairness in keeping everyone informed, there will be more parts like that in the future, that are bare of anything in the way of A/N's and which will be numbered as 'between real chapters'. (Eg., 1.5 or 6.5)_

_This is planned to be a long, multi-chapter fic, people, so be ready. I'm also, very loosely, planning out a sequel to this, which would involve crossing __**into**__ canon during the Successors Arc and actually re-writing some of it. O.o This is also planned to be a 'multimedia' project of sorts, where from time to time there will be photos and the like to accompany certain chapters and / or events. Those will be posted up on my account on deviantART, there's a link to it on my Profile page. (There's already one pic and a cover to check out. ;D)_

_As for where we are in terms of canon-timeline, this is pre-LABB and pre-pre-Death Note. A 'what-if' fic, really, if Beyond never ran away, so a couple years before the events in __Death Note: Another Note__ took place. This means Beyond and the other Wammy boys will interact (gasp!) but there are __no pairings__. :P_

_Progress with this one will be slow. I'm working on a ton of other things at the moment as well as life deciding to hit me repeatedly in the face with a frying pan. Reviews and such will encourage – no, I'm not trying to blackmail reviews – but be prepared for long pauses between chapters. Part One turned up fairly quickly because it was already written and waiting to go. But enough of this, I say! Enjoy the story!_

_**Beta:**__ SkyTurtle3._

_**Music: **_Circle You, Circle You _by Hatsune Miku & Megurine Luka (Vocaloids) and _Cultivation_ by Susumu Hirasawa._

_**Warning:**__ Rated 'M' for disturbing imagery, psychological trauma and gore, read with caution. True name reveals are a possibility._

_**Disclaimer: **__Death Note__ and related characters © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. __Death Note: Another Note__ and related characters © NISIOISIN._

…

Brothers contamiNated

Part One, "Impurity"

Raven Ehtar

…

_Orphanage deep in the forest greens,  
>So no one would find the dark machines.<br>Made from a little child's brain,  
>Immortality built of children's pain.<em>

…

There are some places in the world where you can literally feel the personality of the site. Where if you kept your eyes closed and let the air fill your lungs, the scents fill your nostrils, the sounds crowd your ears and the very spirit of the place wash over you, you would know exactly where you were. For good, bad or indifferent, this is the way of many of Earth's locations.

For example, the city of Winchester is a place that could never be mistaken for anywhere else once one became acquainted with it. Winchester, like all of England, is steeped in centuries of human history. It's a place of ancient stone buildings, proud statues, winding alleys and meandering, organic streets that grew and twisted as the town spread to enclose its people. The ancient cathedral city is a place where, standing in the center of it, you could feel the cold age seep up from the rock and into your bones. It's a large city, with many smaller neighboring towns so close they may as well have been one and the same, and is one of the most expensive places to reside in the country.

Though the city has been a site of some excitement and danger in its 2,000 year lifetime, now it is relatively peaceful and well-tended. Those who visit tend to be impressed as much with the bones of its past, the tourist attractions and novelties, as they are with the peace and tranquility. From towering Winchester Cathedral to the somewhat questionable King Arthur's Round Table to the many fairs and festivals, a visitor is rarely without some occupation or entertainment.

It is not difficult, then, to see how one particular ancient pile of stone could be so easily overlooked. Even should an errant traveller happen to stray out so far from the city limits as this building was, it was hardly large or ornate enough to attract attention. Even the most determined of sightseers would be hard put to find the place, and only serious students of local history would go to the trouble once discovering that, whatever past roles this building had played, it now carried out the task of an orphanage. Tourists usually drew the line at the prospect of large numbers of children, and orphanages were generally seen as a necessity, but depressing.

The orphanage, tucked away just beyond the borders of Winchester, was called the Wammy House. From the outside it was as simple and straightforward as could be wished, the inside would reveal it to be anything but. That is, if anyone were able to get past the threshold.

Despite the claim to being an orphanage, no one seeking to adopt was ever escorted in. There was no phone number available to the public, and as technologically advanced, no websites were constructed for it. No agency ever steered the hopeful couples seeking new family members to its doors. The rare, random visitor to appear on the doorstep of Wammy House would be listened to patiently and politely, and then apologized to as it was explained that the facility currently had no suitable candidates. They would be given the business cards of agencies that might be able to help them further and then firmly sent on their way.

The Wammy House operated best outside the public eye, its true purpose a closely guarded secret. There were children within their walls, certainly, but they were even more carefully guarded; a precious resource they would not lightly part with. In truth, 'orphanage' was a very loose term for the Wammy House, one that fit in one or two respects for practicality, and almost none in terms of approach.

Orphans _were_ brought into the facility, and once there they _were_ given the basic essentials of shelter, food, education and recreation, such as might be given by any orphanage. If the quality of these essentials were somewhat higher than in other facilities of the same name, then good for them. However, from there on the Wammy House in no way resembled an orphanage. As has already been mentioned, they did not encourage visitors, being neither in the phone book nor available through regular agencies. This was because the Wammy House did not maintain regular channels and networks with other orphanages, nor were they constrained to the same budget restrictions or – as might be quietly suspected but carefully ignored – the same laws. And, again as mentioned before, none of their wards left the halls once they were gathered. At least not with adoptive parents, and it was here where the differences in approach made themselves felt.

The children, who referred to themselves collectively as 'Wammy's kids', were never meant to be found homes beyond the Wammy House walls. They had each been hand-picked from other facilities, or in a few cases from the streets, because each one possessed some exceptional talent or attribute. Most notably was intelligence; whatever else a Wammy kid might have, the one thing they all shared was a higher than average IQ score. Normally much higher than average. After finding them, bringing them to the tucked-away corner of Hampshire and going through a preliminary bout of tests to assess their abilities, the Wammy House set about training them, focusing on each of their strongest areas and honing them to a specific end. This was part of the reason why the Wammy House never even attempted to pass their children along. After investing so much in them, they weren't about to let them go.

The other reason why, once a child had become a 'Wammy kid' they couldn't leave again, and what it was the House was training them all to, requires that you know L.

Perhaps 'know' is too strong a word. Even those few who have known him since he himself had been a small child, and who work with him on a daily basis can't honestly say that they 'know' L. By personality and necessity he is a painfully private person. The labyrinthine barriers he has erected around his innermost self over the years are so deep and convoluted that it's doubtful whether even he can penetrate them anymore.

L, quite simply, is a detective. Or several detectives, rather. L is well known as the world's greatest detective, solving cases that have left entire bureaus dumbfounded without ever revealing himself. As L, he has garnered a reputation of only taking on the hardest of cases and solving them without becoming personally involved. Secretly, he is also Eraldo Coil and Deneuve, unofficially the second and third 'world's greatest'.

If you are unfamiliar with the statistics related to the criminal world and those that fight against it, it may not be immediately apparent what these facts imply. L alone had an effect on the world's crime rate comparable to an average city fire engine on a household blaze. L, Coil and Deneuve, not to mention many other aliases and false identities, were the entire fire department acting in unison, axes and hoses in hand. Whether the populace knew this was all the work of – nearly – a single man or not, the results of his efforts were there for all to see, and even a blind man could say with certainty that 'L' was doing the lion's share.

If you were a criminal with ambition, then you knew or would soon know of L. In some places, the detective's name alone was enough to prevent the fires of sin from flaring. He made enemies, the general and the specific, the patient and the driven. L was, in the seamy underbelly of society, the single most hated man in the world. If ever found or captured by his many, many enemies, there would be little hope of his continued existence.

What, you may well be wondering, does all of this have to do with an orphanage in Winchester that never adopts its children?

To say that L worked alone is not entirely true. While he is the uncontested mastermind of investigation, he is the central node of a vast network. Over the course of his career, L has created a system of safe houses, spies, moles, informants and friendly connections in high political circles in nearly every country and civilian law enforcement agency. As well as using people on 'the outside' that he feels he can trust, there are also those under his direct influence, in his pay. These are the people he has personally selected and trained to work for him. As yet, all of these individuals have been found in the general populace while going about their normal jobs.

The Wammy House was a new kind of recruitment tool.

What better way to find allies than to tailor them to the task from a very young age? That was why they were so carefully chosen, why their treatment was so good and so specific. It was why Wammy House wasn't bound by the same constraints as an everyday orphanage, and why the children were not permitted to leave. They didn't want those they invested so much in to just be whisked away. But it was more than that.

It was dangerous to let them leave.

Once a certain amount of training had gone into them, once they became aware of where they were and what they were to become, they became potential liabilities to the entire network, and to L in particular. If let free after that, then the very information that had been so carefully installed in them became a loose weapon, perfect to use against L. It was a risk, every single one of them, exacerbated by how difficult it was for the children to make it through the grueling program, but it was considered a risk worth taking. Because the Wammy House was more than just a recruitment station. It had another purpose, one even more important than the first. The Wammy House was attempting to create a new L. Any children considered particularly suited to the work were set aside and given extra attention, even more specialized training. All to the purpose, the possibility, of becoming the new L.

L knew, more pointedly than anyone else, what would happen if and when he was no longer able to perform. He knew that while the networks he had in place were excellent and could stand for a time on their own, they still needed that central node, the one to make it all work together and spin. If not him, then someone else, someone explicitly trained to fill that role. An heir.

For without the central node, the networks would fall.

So there was Wammy's. Most of the children, upon learning what was intended for their future, were contented to be trained as more 'network nodes'. Some, however, the ambitious or the exceptionally stubborn, were determined to shape themselves into the new L. Their reasons varied, as did their talents, personalities and success, but their drive was the same. They fought for it, competed and sparred for that coveted place. Wammy House only encouraged it and a strange hierarchy developed among them.

What no one seemed to ask themselves is what effect these sorts of pressures would have on an impressionable mind, intelligent or no. No one asked how _they_ viewed the world on a fundamental level. And no one asked what would become of those who didn't make it. The ones trained to be L, that central node, but not quite there. What place was there for them?

…

Along the long, twisting hallways of the Wammy House's ancient building, a young boy walked quietly. It wasn't particularly unusual that a young boy would be found there. The facility housed, taught and trained dozens of others like him, male and female both. If anything odd were to be found in the scene, it would be in the boy himself. Observe him.

He is, by the standards of the place he resides, no longer a 'young boy'. He is thirteen, perhaps fourteen, with the stride and aura of someone twice that age. He qualified now as a young _man_, perhaps, when his peers were on average five to seven years younger than he was. As he walks along the shadowy hallway whose wood paneled walls only absorbed any light that fell upon them, he thinks carefully over recent events in his life, and events due to occur in the very near future. His pale, fine featured face remains smooth and impassive, the only sign of the depth of his musings to be seen in the slight tensing of his stooped shoulders or the faraway look in eyes as black as coal. With hands in his pockets and apparently taking no interest in where it was his feet were propelling him to, it would be easy to conclude the boy was a daydreamer, an incessant woolgatherer given to absent mindedness and solitary pursuits. The sight of his unkempt hair, disheveled clothing and absent manner would only strengthen the impression given.

That impression was almost completely wrong.

This boy, tottering on the cusp of adolescence and shuffling down the passage, was one of the most promising children of the facility, one of the most likely to become L when the time came. Within the Wammy House no one used their real names, the children being given code letters and they taking it upon themselves to name themselves. This boy was listed in all his records as simply 'B', and the name he'd thought up for himself was 'Beyond'.

Beyond, in a field that had become increasingly competitive over the years, had been unofficially ranked number two in the semi-nebulous hierarchy of Wammy's. Whatever his appearances might have said, his mind and talents had him down for becoming L save one other.

Or he had been, at least. Recent events, those same he was now mulling over, had changed that arrangement somewhat. Beyond was now first in line, the one set to take L's place.

Beyond had his own ideas about that.

…

Even in a facility geared toward the training of what could be considered the world's future protectors, and with the amount of focus and time it would require from the ones undergoing the rigors of the training, there was such a thing as free time. It was a relatively tiny portion of the Wammy kids' lives, but it was still there, and was monitored closely to ensure every child had at least a few hours to call their own. The need for down time was not lost on those who ran the House, so they provided.

One such thing they provided was a myriad of rooms to roam through. In a building as old as the one Wammy's had claimed there was no shortage of them, and for those responsible enough, a generous amount of freedom was given. There were also the grounds, of course. The several acres of semi-wild field and grove which the Wammy House nestled in the center of like a large egg in a giant nest. There were stricter conditions for the exploration of the outside, but again the Wammy kids were given some amount of freedom there.

However, it is not the outside where we set our focus just now, but the inside, on one particular room. Its precise function it hard to determine, even after people had taken up consistent residence for several years. It's one of those odd rooms that has somehow managed to avoid all attempts to define it. It was too far from the rest of the living rooms to be lived in very much, it was never outfitted to be a playroom or a classroom, it had even failed to act as a very good storage room. In size it would have been considered small for a classroom and large for a bedroom. Windows meant to let in daylight were filled with stained glass so dark with age it only cast the interior into multicolored gloom. A small fireplace, whose chimney was in disrepair, was never lit and only succeeded in letting in the chill and damp instead of chasing it away. Stone floors and walls drew out any lingering trace of heat.

Since no one was sure how to utilize the awkward space, it became a kind of collection room for assorted furnishings. A few mismatched rugs were strewn across the heat sucking floor, one ancient loveseat and a two small tables were shoved in absent-mindedly and not arranged into any discernable pattern. A small bookshelf had found its way to one wall, though the only books on the shelves were the ones brought in by students and left again. Such other bric-a-brac included some drawing paper, a few toys, a pair of shoes, an old game of Monopoly and a radio.

It wasn't a room that was lived in so much as randomly wandered into.

One such had wandered in, and had spread the floor with a large puzzle. The pieces were all small and monochrome, with no bright splashes of color anywhere in the finished scene. In one corner of the room, ignored by the puzzle solver, was the discarded lid printed with the image the puzzle was meant to be once it was completed. It was a disorganized pile of silver sewing needles. The inherent difficulty of the puzzle and the lack of reference didn't seem to bother the small boy sitting in the center of his ring of broken pieces. To someone observing him, with his white as white clothing and silvery hair, crouching and surrounded by the gray detritus of the jigsaw, he might resemble a small meteor in the center of his own self-made crater.

The boy's name, as such things went in Wammy's, was Near. He was known to be withdrawn, quiet, and not given to going out of doors, but preferring cerebral activities. With such a reputation he didn't provide much interest to the children who were active and rambunctious, and those who shared his quiet inclinations respected them as being best carried out in solitude. So Near often found himself alone, undisturbed in whatever it was he occupied his mind with, be that exercises scheduled to him by the program or his own amusements.

The puzzle took his full attention. Soft, slim fingers peeping out from the cuffs of his shirt moved often and surely. He would work at a section of his ring at a time, piecing clumps, lines and edges of the pile of needles together, then spin carefully in place to concentrate on a new section. From time to time he would carry a complete segment to another place in the circle to fit together with another. Occasionally, the corners of his mouth would twitch into something like a small, satisfied smile.

So absorbed was he in his project that he didn't notice when it was that he gained an audience. He became aware of it as the sense of eyes boring into his back, the faint sound of breathing, and the tiny noise of weight shifting. He had set up his puzzle on a bare patch of floor in front of the fireplace, if he looked up he would be staring into the unlit hearth, which put the loveseat directly behind him. Someone had come in, settled into it and was watching him put together a chaos of needles.

Near did his best to ignore the attention, but now that he was aware of it his shoulders began to itch and his scalp crawled. He was fairly good at ignoring people, but not knowing exactly who it was made it more difficult to concentrate on what he was doing rather than on the feeling of someone sharing his space. He resisted the urge to crane his neck around and waited until his circular progress brought him to where he could see without straining.

When he finally did look up, it wasn't who he had expected it to be. An older boy was indeed in the loveseat, sitting on the arm with his feet sunk into the moldering seat cushions. Thin and pale of skin like Near, he regarded the younger boy impassively from under a thatch of disheveled hair and out of eyes that might as well have been ink wells. Near met the stare with his agate one and held it.

It wasn't like Beyond to seek out company, and even less to seek out Near. They were both close to the top in Wammy's ranking system, but they were also both socially withdrawn. The only one Beyond had hung out with on a regular basis had been A, and those Near spent the most time with, (and who could therefore be called 'friends' if one stretched the term to its limit), were a couple of lower ranked students. He didn't even tend to cross paths with Beyond save by chance in the halls or during lessons. Direct interaction between the two of them would probably total a mean dozen at the most. During the last week Beyond had become even less visible then before, keeping himself to himself so effectively Near had barely seen him.

Now he was here.

Beyond only held the stare for a moment or two before breaking into a toothy grin. Near was so unused to the expression on the older boy that he almost started. "Good morning, Near."

Near blinked, then nodded. "Good morning, B." This constituting the full extent of their previous conversations, Near turned his attention back to the puzzle laid out around his toes.

Beyond did not leave, but Near hadn't exactly expected him to. Why come in only to say good morning and then leave? If he wanted to stick around and watch him solve the jigsaw, fine. Now that he knew who was in the room with him, he would be much easier to ignore. What he hadn't expected was more conversation.

"Have you seen the board yet, Near?" He meant the pin board on the wall of the main lounge, where announcements were posted up. Since there had recently been an exam, he was probably referring to the results that would be posted up.

"Yes," he replied. He didn't offer more, unsure where Beyond was leading to.

"Impressive marks, once again," he said nonchalantly. "I congratulate you."

Near paused for a moment, hands hovering over silver-gray pieces. It could just be Beyond congratulating him on good marks, but Near's time in the orphanage, immersed in the strange social hierarchy it created had taught him a specialized caution. If it had been anyone else of the handful of people who spoke to him on a regular basis, he would have known what to expect and how to respond, but the fact was that he just didn't know enough about Beyond to catch any underlying meaning. Up until recently Beyond had been ranked at number two and Near at number three, but had both risen only a couple of weeks ago, leaving Beyond at one and Near at two. Their relative positions to each other hadn't changed, so Beyond should have no reason to perceive him as a threat…

"Thank you," he replied quietly. _If all else fails, then lie low and observe_, he thought to himself.

Beyond bobbed his head and fell silent, watching the paler boy click pieces together. He was, taking all of the fitted together portions around the ring into consideration, more than halfway complete. In view of the size of the puzzle it was impressive. When Near had swiveled himself around to face away from him again, Beyond spoke.

"Although I have to wonder…" he paused, stretched his legs out on the cushions, spreading his toes. He let the silence drag on into the realms of the uncomfortable, watching Near's back. He was still working on his puzzle, but his head was cocked to a side. He was listening. "Why is it _you're_ not first in the line of succession? Your scores are very nearly perfect, but you still come in second."

Near did not reply, but he tilted his head to stare back at Beyond. His eyes were steely, the set of his jaw registering annoyance. Beyond smiled his most charming smile. The effect was mixed.

"I get my share of bad grades," Beyond continued. "Not as many as most, but still more than you. Seems strange to me that I consistently pull out ahead of you, despite that."

Near stared a little longer, though it was closer to a glare, now. He turned his body back to face Beyond fully, choosing to forget the puzzle for a time. "What is it you want, B? It sounds as though you're trying to instigate an argument."

Beyond widened his eyes theatrically, attempting a wounded look. "Me? Perish the thought. This is merely a line of questioning for curiosity's sake." Beyond tucked his legs and somersaulted across the seats, ending with his legs draped over the opposite arm and himself splayed on the cushions. "This institution," he continued, "is known for its insistence that all of its wards compete with each other to attain the highest scores and therefore – in theory – earn the right to join the line of succession to L." Beyond turned his head to look directly at Near, black bangs falling across his eyes. "The fact that they seem to be disregarding their own criteria seems suggestive."

Near was at a loss. This was the most dialogue not directed at an instructor that he had ever heard out of Beyond, and he still wasn't sure what the purpose was. "Suggestive of what?"

"That's exactly the point on which I desired you opinion!" Beyond's face split into a wide grin, revealing rows of white teeth and pointed canines. "I have my own ideas on the matter, but would be interested to hear your interpretation."

Well, a mental exercise should be simple enough, if that was what Beyond wanted. Near settled back, one foot tucked comfortably beneath him, the opposite knee brought up close to his chest. He rolled a lock of hair around one finger, considering the topic at hand and the boy who presented it. Beyond was watching him closely, the darkness of his eyes only made the darker for the shadows cast over his face. There was a stillness to him when he waited, a complete quietness that would have you forget he was even there. Beyond had a talent for being present but unnoticeable, something Near had perceived even in the classroom. Even when participating in activities, moving from place to place or speaking, he could project kind of blandness. It only ever seemed to be when he _wanted_ notice and put in an effort that those around him remembered he was there.

_Like now,_ Near mused. "What were your thoughts?" he asked aloud.

Beyond quirked a brow at him. "What would be the point in explaining, when I already know them?"

"I might be interested in hearing your point of view as well," Near pointed out patiently.

"I asked you first."

"That is a childish response."

"Granted."

Near sighed, tugging at his hair irritably. And this was, supposedly, his superior as well as his elder who was throwing out the argumentative logic of a four-year-old at him. Still, quarrelling with him wouldn't be productive, so he considered. "My own opinion," he began slowly, "would be that they are not merely looking at high grades to determine one's standing in the line of succession, but are taking a cumulative view. Where I may have higher than average scores, your less than perfect marks, when taken together, might reveal a kind of irregularity that makes you a more desirable choice."

Beyond was silent for a while, thinking. It was somewhat disconcerting, as Beyond's expression didn't change at all. His eyes didn't wander away, his mouth didn't twitch. There wasn't so much as a flicker across his face as he thought. It was hard for Near to keep himself still and simply wait the older boy out. The long silence made it seem like Beyond was waiting for more. "But they don't take just academics into consideration, do they?" he said at last. "We know that. Or have you possibly forgotten the number of logic exercises we take, linear and nonlinear?"

Near shifted. "…No, but perhaps you've answered your own objection: There are no standard answers in those exercises. It's very open to interpretation, to us and to those who read the responses. Perhaps your results on those are higher than mine."

Beyond rolled himself upright, making the loveseat's aged framework creak alarmingly. He curled both legs beneath him like a cat and sat back on his heels, shaking his head. "No, we break even on those."

"How do you know? They never give out those results."

A smug flash of teeth. "I broke into the computer records and looked," he said unashamedly. "You score higher overall in the linear logic, while I do in the nonlinear. Though 'score' is the wrong word, given the nature of them…" he mused, bringing up a thumb to chew distractedly at the nail.

Something that might have become a scowl on anyone else tugged at the corners of Near's mouth. He sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"No, you shouldn't." Beyond continued to smile, pleased with himself.

"Regardless, my original suggestion could still be valid."

The older boy tilted his head to the side, a joint in his neck popped. His hair, which was somehow always too long and disheveled, even immediately following a trip to the barber shop, fell across his face, masking one eye. He didn't seem to notice, and continued to stare at Near with the one exposed. Beyond could tell that Near was beginning to tire of this game. He doubted there was anyone in the House who had ever pressed Near into a corner, even for as small a thing as this was, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Privately, Beyond was pleased. "Yes, it could be," he replied slowly, as though working through the suggestion carefully. "There are enough variables to make it a good theory, and with no way to prove or disprove it, it's as good as taken as truth…" He trailed away, letting his tone and the following quiet imply the skepticism.

It didn't take very long for Near's eyes to narrow ever so slightly. "But you believe it to be inferior to your own conclusions?"

Beyond rolled his head to the other side, letting just a little of his smirk come through. "We-ell… not _inferior_, per se… Actually, you have struck along the same vein as my own reasoning, with one small but critical difference."

Near appeared to be suppressing a grimace. "Which would be?"

"Personality."

"Personality?"

"Personality."

Near released his hair to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. He could feel the faintest beginnings of a headache developing. "Yes. You do seem to be afflicted with an over-abundance of it."

"And you from a crippling lack of," Beyond rejoined instantly.

The hand at Near's nose froze amid it's gentle massage, then lowered slowly. Slate gray eyes locked onto Beyond's inky blacks. "Let me understand this fully," he said, enunciating each word precisely. "What, exactly, are you inferring?"

Once again Beyond's face split into a wide grin. In that instant, he reminded Near of a court jester. A fool made to caper and poke fun at all for the amusement of his king's court. All he needed was the colorful motley and a little more energy in his foolery. With or without the costume, though, Near wasn't amused. "As if he didn't know," Beyond all but sing-songed. "Very good, but you give yourself away by your very lack of reaction."

There was no denying the frown on Near's face by this point. "Either explain yourself, B, or remove yourself from my vicinity. Or at the very least, keep silent."

Beyond chuckled at the younger boy's tone, which only made him stiffen more. "It seems that Near _can_ display interest if it's the proper subject at hand. No one would have ever suspected."

Near stood abruptly and turned away from Beyond, ready to abandon his half-finished puzzle if it meant he could get some peace elsewhere.

Beyond stood as well, feet sinking far into the cushions. "No, no, wait, I'll explain. Please," he motioned for Near to sit again, the picture of gentlemanly apology. Near stared at him blankly for a minute. He didn't believe for a second that Beyond wouldn't be any less insulting or exasperating, but he did resume his seat on the floor. He didn't allow himself to think he was intrigued as such, but curiosity was definitely there.

For himself, Beyond settled back into his a crouch, seeming to sink into the ancient cushions as they took his weight. He wrapped one arm about his knees and titled his head. Something in the set of his mouth and way he stared directly at Near told the younger Wammy child that his mocking manner was now under better control. Whatever it was he meant to say, it would be said in seriousness. Near covered a shift in his weight as further settling down. As he was now, Beyond bore a startling resemblance to L.

"You seem to believe," he began, taking the tone of a lecturer in his hall, "that by holding yourself detached, you will achieve greater recognition and standing. To a certain degree this has proved itself. No one can come close to your record for high marks, save perhaps for A…" Here the dark boy's eyes seemed to stare past Near, looking into some place not bound by stone and time. It lasted only the space of a breath, and then he was back, refocusing on Near. "Who has regretfully passed on," he finished. "It appears as though your focus of purely mental attributes, while forsaking the physical or emotional, has paid off rather well." A slight lowering of heavy lids over a stare like polished marbles. "But it's also left you a little stunted in other areas."

Throughout Beyond's tirade Near had been reminding himself to take what was being said as though it were an exercise presented in a classroom. As though he were a far removed entity, and not the subject being dissected under the flay of Beyond'd tongue. He had to remind himself more often than he would like to admit. His voice betrayed none of his lingering annoyance when he replied. "And you believe that this is the reason I am in the second place position while you are first? That they take into deliberation our personality traits and drive, and that yours is the reason you have pulled out ahead of me?"

The black marbles bored into Near. "Something like that. I believe that your determination to be L's true successor has led you to an extreme means of achieving it… But it has just fallen short due to its very nature. I think that to become L's successor, you'll have to alter your strategy."

For a time, Near was silent. By choice he was not a social boy. He did not spend his spare time amongst his peers, and so had missed out on a great deal when it came to learning about personal interactions, or how to deal with awkward moments smoothly and tactfully. He had also missed out on some fairly fundamental realizations garnered from such interactions, one of which being how jarring it is to hear an accurate description of oneself from an outside party.

It was not a particularly pleasant or welcome sensation.

Near affixed his blandest stare on Beyond's intense one. "An interesting theory, and well thought out," he said. "But not necessarily true." He turned pointedly away from Beyond, presenting to him the full view of his back as he bent over the problem of his puzzle. "Who is to say that it is an affected quality that I do not place so much stress on the physical or emotional?"

For a time it seemed that Beyond would let the topic drop. Near was able to fit together more than two dozen pieces together in peace, with only the vague feeling of another presence at his back. It was a welcome change from Beyond's nattering, but Near found himself wishing he was left completely to himself again. Finally, a creak behind him announced Beyond's rising from the old loveseat. Near heard no footsteps, but imagined he could feel the phantom sensation at his back recede as the elder boy made his way to the door…

And nearly swallowed his own tongue when Beyond's face suddenly appeared beside his own. He didn't look at Near, but at his unfinished puzzle. "You don't deny that _is_ your personal state, only if it's deliberate or not?" Still not looking at Near, he smiled his wide, toothy grin.

"Interesting."

Before Near could construct a reply, he was gone, vanished from Near's side, out the open door and down the hall faster than he would have thought possible without breaking into a run. He stared at the door and empty hallway beyond it, wondering. What exactly had Beyond been hoping to accomplish by that odd conversation, and what had Near given away that he thought was so interesting? That Beyond had come with some specific purpose in mind Near did not doubt, the question was what and why?

He shrugged to himself. Such questions would keep for now. Now he was alone, he could concentrate on his puzzle.

It took him a little over an hour to finish. Complete there was very little in the way of order brought to the chaos of the fallen needles, but there did seem to be more harmony once completed than as it had been broken and scattered. Near smiled.

There came a sound from the door and Near glanced up, half expecting to see that Beyond had returned. Instead there was a slightly shorter figure there. Black in clothing where Beyond had been white, hair golden clean straw, where Beyond's was black as soot, he was a startling contrast to who Near had thought it would be.

And he was instantly recognizable. Near felt himself stiffen as the new arrival strode into the room.

His feet were bare as Beyond's had been, but dirty, as though he'd just come in from outside, distaining shoes. The fair hair was also tousled, flipped and muffed out of its usual neat arrangement. As he came closer Near could see the cuffs of his pants were damp and mud spattered. He held the hem of his shirt out, a slight bulge told Near he was carrying something in it, though from his angle from the floor he could not see what it was. He thought he could guess.

As Mello, Wammy House's number three, came close to Near and his newly finished puzzle he looked down and squinted at it. His eyes were ice blue, his features fine and sharp. When he smiled there was an edge to it that belied the friendliness of the gesture.

Still smiling, me moved his ice stare from the puzzle to Near. Near did not smile back.

For years there had been open rivalry between the two boys. They competed with each other for the second-place position with the fierceness of all young boys. Or at least, Mello competed fiercely. On Near's part there was little more than grudging acceptance of whatever it was Mello chose to dole out next, which only served to infuriate the blond further. The pale boy had come to take Mello's small torments as part of day-to-day life, and had learned it was best to let them be done and pass with as little fuss as possible.

Mello released the edge of his shirt. He was standing directly over the puzzle, and the load of damp, sticky mud he'd been carrying fell heavily, ruining the jigsaw and spattering Near. Very deliberately, Mello reached down and placed a single buttercup on the heap of soggy dirt.

Near never took his eyes off of Mello's face. After depositing his 'gift', the blond grinned a thin, sneering grin, turned on his heel and strode away.

Near counted under his breath until he was sure Mello was gone, then examined the ruin of his jigsaw. There would be no saving it, the damp was already seeping into it, the soil staining the coloring. With a sigh Near rose to get cleaning supplies and a garbage bag.

…

_**A/N2:**__ I do enjoy getting into how I think the Wammy system works. And Beyond and Near in the same room is just a guilty pleasure to write. Muah ha ha…_

_All the details as to the area of and surrounding Winchester was a result of much time spent on the interwebs researching it. If I mucked anything up, I am truly sorry. I'm a Yankee, so Wikipedia and travel guides are my friends for details on other countries. ^^;_

_The title quote is from _Circle You, Circle You _by Hatsune Miku & Megurine Luka (Vocaloids), which can easily be found on YouTube. I highly recommend a listen or five. It's deliciously creepy._

_Now I go off to work on more drafting for this and 3 overdue requests in my 'inbox'. (__I haven't forgotten you, guys!__)_

_**Thank you, everyone! I hope you are all enjoying this new pet project of mine! :D**_


	3. Part II

_**A/N:**__ Welcome back, my faithful, to the second chapter of __Brothers contamiNated__! Yes, I know the counter says it's part three, but ignore it. I know what I'm doing. ;3_

_For everyone who has been waiting so patiently for this part to appear, and for those who have been reviewing and alerting during the long gap, thank you all so much! I do this out of love for the fandom and telling stories, but it really is so nice to know that there are folks out there who are reading my scribbles and enjoying them. It encourages me to continue with more, (totally not a hint to keep it coming ;D), and I get a chance to chat with some truly awesome fellow fans. You guys rock, I loves ya all, and I hope this was worth the wait!_

_**Beta:**__ SkyTurtle3._

_**Music:**__  
><em>Anxiousness I (Loveless _soundtrack_) _by Masanori Sasaji  
><em>Taiji (Death Note _soundtrack_) _by Yoshihisa Hirano and Hideki Taniuchi.  
>Both of these were suggested by SkyTurtle3, so thanks to her!<em>

_**Warning:**__ Rated 'M' for disturbing imagery, psychological trauma and gore, read with caution. True name reveals are a possibility._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Death Note__ and related characters © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. __Death Note: Another Note__ and related characters © NISIOISIN._

…

Brothers contamiNated

Part Two, "Status Quo"

Raven Ehtar

…

No matter how hard I try,  
>You're never satisfied.<br>This is not a home,  
>I think I'm better off alone.<p>

…

There were few, if any, among Wammy's top ten who could honestly say that they had close friends among their peers. The intensity of the curriculum and the strain put on them to be as great as they could possibly be was normally too much for any normal friendship to bear. It all required too much effort on the part of one child to allow for anything as superfluous as human interaction. Even for those who possessed the talent of splitting their focus, there simply wasn't enough time in a day to do much more than what the Institution demanded. Not enough time and not enough energy, most would go straight from studies to their beds. In many cases even that offered no respite, the books just followed them to their pillows.

Still, in defiance of the odds, there were two examples of friendships springing up amongst the top ten. One had been between the top two, in fact: A and B. The two of them, while not the kind of friends that were rarely seen out of each other's company, had spent next to no time in the company of anyone _other_ than each other. After A's death, B spent the majority of his time completely alone.

The second example lay between Wammy's numbers three and four, Mello and Matt. Unlike A and B, these two did have some friends besides each other – all lower than ten in the hierarchy – but it was unusual to see one without the other nearby. It seemed that wherever Mello went within the facility, Matt would be with him, at his shoulder. More often than not he would also be holding something, a videogame or a textbook, barely paying heed to the world around him, but he was there.

For all the rest of the top ten, including Near, there were no friends to be had this high in the program. In Near's case, there weren't even any close acquaintances in the ranks below ten. Yes, it was all difficult work. Yes, his focus was always strictly channeled to that work. Yes, he had little energy for anything else. But the real reason he felt so uncomfortable making friends - and he suspected the others had much the same reason - was that he couldn't trust anyone.

The Institution was competitive. It had to be, and it taught its wards to be competitive as well. Score the best grades, earn the most respect, and enjoy the greatest rewards. The Institution taught them well, they all competed for the greatest prize ruthlessly… which wasn't a very conducive environment for making friends. Friends who would only be after the same thing as you were, after all. It wouldn't work for Near. He couldn't pretend he wouldn't be watching a companion for signs of foul play, and didn't see why he should. He didn't require friends to function, why waste so much energy on pretending to have one? In his opinion, it was better to remain as he was, rather than force a charade of questionable usefulness. A and B, Mello and Matt, they may have friendships that functioned for them, but they were unusual cases.

A and B, so far as Near had ever seen, had been able to maintain their friendship very well, never having more than one or two disagreements, despite having been the top two, where the pressure to compete would have been at its worst. This was accomplished by a combination of factors, the first being that the two of them had known each other for years. They were both of the first 'generation' of Wammy's orphans, and had been a part of the Institution's program from the very beginning, their friendship predating all of it. It seemed to Near that a relationship begun outside the Institution's influence could only be stronger, and would stand a better chance at surviving the rigors of the program.

Besides which, the two of them never seemed to compete with each other directly. They each strove, certainly, fighting to stay on top, but never with the goal of displacing the other for the first ranking. It seemed that once they were in the top two they didn't particularly mind which of them was which. Beyond had been content at number two, and A rather blasé about his number one spot. If they had switched, Near sincerely doubted either would care. If there _were_ any animosity between A and B, Near was totally unaware of it.

On the other hand, Mello and Matt both belonged to the fourth generation along with Near, and their friendship had been forged in the thick of the Wammy House games. And where A and B had been competitive, but maintaining a laid-back attitude, Mello at least was fiercely competitive, to the point of outright aggression. Where A and B were confident in their abilities, Mello was never satisfied in what he could accomplish, always pushing himself harder and harder, virtually attacking anyone he thought was in his way. This usually turned out to be Near.

The only reason Matt had never been a target, and why he and Mello hadn't become enemies, was because Matt had never posed a real threat to Mello. There had been a time, when Mello had first arrived at Wammy's, when Matt ranked higher than his friend, but it hadn't lasted very long, and Matt hadn't put forth any effort to stay higher than Mello. In fact, Matt never seemed to put forth much effort into his position at all; it was just where he naturally wound up. It made Near wonder where he would be if he _did_ try. It also made him wonder if Mello realized that, should Matt decide to try, he would likely rise above Mello again, possibly above Near and at a stretch, even Beyond. If he did realize it, then what sort of hidden strain was there between those two friends and how might Near capitalize on it should he need to…?

Near shook the thought away. That wasn't himself thinking, that was the Wammy system. Rather than giving their wards a chance to recover from the recent loss in their numbers, specifically that of A, the Institution was continuing as it always had. If the House deigned to notice A's suicide at all, it was only in order to take care of his funeral. Any other gesture of mourning or even acknowledgement seemed to slip them by entirely. No day of rest in the curriculum, no symbolic touches of black, not even a word or two to even the youngest of wards to shepherd them through the grieving process. If A hadn't been the top-ranked, Near would have said that they were acting as though they were glad to be rid of him. Though, if he considered it from their point of view, they still might be. Anyone who would take their own life was obviously damaged, so they were better off without him tarnishing the system.

Harsh, but it fit the visible evidence.

And if he were honest, things _weren't_ exactly as they had been since A's death. One thing had shifted since putting A in the ground: Every one of Near's professors, councilors, and even Roger himself, were all stressing the need to increase his 'dedication', his 'energy'. They were all pushing him to make the most of this opportunity presented to him.

Near twisted a lock of hair too hard, and had to hold back a little wince of pain. Sitting in his usual place in one of the classrooms of the Wammy House, he listened to the lecture currently being spouted and studied the formulae written up on the whiteboard. Today it was a series of chemical compounds drawn out in their basic molecular forms. In this case, organic poisons derived from some of the less exotic plants. This was material that was normally reserved for college-level students, but Near believed that even as the youngest student in attendance, a full eight years of age, he was grasping the material better than anyone else. Though, whatever edge he might have wasn't likely to be very much, really, even over the slowest in attendance. This wasn't one of the classes for the general Wammy population, but one of those specialized classes, tailored to fit the children deemed ready for the material. As such, there were only seven sets of eyes studying the diagrams and only seven pairs of ears listening to the monotonous droning set to put them all to sleep. Only the seven top most ranked were allowed in, excluding B. He had already progressed beyond the material being presented and had private lessons for chemistry.

Seven in attendance, but only two truly concerned Near, leaving four as mere background. Those two were, of course, Mello and Matt. One directly beneath him in rank and dead set on taking his place, and one only a step behind Mello, who only lacked the energy to become a real threat. They were his only concern out of this collection of Wammy kids, but they were enough.

Considering what close friends the two of them were, Near supposed he should be grateful it never occurred to them to join forces. Matt might not care one way or another, but as Mello's closest friend, he would no doubt be willing to help Mello gain rank, since he evidenced no interest in gaining them. Or perhaps it had occurred to them, but Mello was too proud to take that sort of help, as that would just prove that he couldn't do it himself. A twist of the blonde's psychology that worked in Near's favor…

Gah! Another slip into that aggressive, scheming mindset. Near pulled his eyes away from the other two boys and returned his attention to the whiteboard, where the molecular map for _scopolamine_ from the plant _atropa belladonna_ was being quickly sketched out in blue and green.

'Make the most of the opportunity presented to him.' The 'opportunity' they were alluding to when they said that being the upset in the status quo. The number one of the hierarchy was suddenly gone, which would affect every single rung below it. Naturally it meant everyone moved up one place, but it could also provide a way for some significant change in a short amount of time.

To 'make the most of it' meant they wanted him to take advantage of A's suicide to claw his way to the top, and he didn't think they were all too picky about whatever methods he chose. The meetings he'd had with the adults in charge had left him in no uncertainty as to their views on the morality of backstabbing in order to advance. So long as he was trying his hardest, they didn't care.

But he was just as certain that what they told him, they'd told to every other Wammy as well, including Mello and Matt. Even if Near wasn't willing to use those sorts of methods to further his ranking, Mello certainly would be.

Well, if Mello was too proud to accept the help of a friend, then Near was too proud to sink to the level of a bully to get what he wanted. No matter what any of them said, he would retain his rank and achieve higher by his abilities alone. If he couldn't attain the title of L and the honor of becoming his successor on his own merits, then did he even deserve it?

So he ground through the classes, got the best grades, pulled extracurricular material and focused everything on improving. Whatever social interactions he'd had before dwindled down to nothing as he cut himself off, concentrating only on his goal: become the best there was. It's what it took to become L, and Near was determined to make it. He wouldn't be found wanting.

Of course, that was all easier said than done. Keeping oneself so high and honorable when no one else was proscribing to that scripture proved increasingly difficult as time went on in the Wammy House. What might have passed as pranks or high spirits or even bullying in any other facility took on the sharp, predatory edge of those seeking recognition via dead man's boots. Tripping, shoving, tampering with food, booby-traps, fingers slammed in doors, anything so long as it could be reasonably explained away as an accident or practical joke gone awry was tried. Worse, the Institution turned a blind eye to it all save the worst and clumsiest of offenders. It was every Wammy for themselves, including Near.

He tried his best to remain the best save one, to push himself to become the best period, and to stay out of harm's way through it all, but he was only a small boy, after all. A few months shy of turning nine, he was about the same size as a boy of six. He was stronger than he looked, but that was only a relative measurement, it didn't take much to be stronger than Near looked. There were other students who looked and _were_ much stronger than Near, and who had no issue about using it wherever and whenever they thought they could get away with it. As number two in the hierarchy, he was a target for everyone, because sooner or later everyone would have to go through him. Though, while he did fall victim to the small aggressions of the lower ranked boys and girls, the one who tormented him the worst and most often was the one who would have to go through him first:

Mello.

While others gave him the occasional trouble, which really was at the level of 'prank', Mello tormented him ruthlessly, at every turn. As soon as Near left his room each morning, he could expect any number of planned misfortunes to befall him at the pleasure of his rival. From having unsavory, and occasionally, still living things being snuck into his cereal to papers shredded if he turned his back, from small but constant shoves and trips in the hallway to verbal barbs carefully honed to get under his skin, Mello never gave Near more than a half hours' worth of peace on any given day. One day he went so far as to trip Near down a short flight of stairs. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Near had come away with only bruises after his tumble, but without dramatic proof that he was being victimized, he couldn't go to Roger to have Mello punished. Not that he particularly wanted a broken arm or concussion, but it might have been nice to have Mello taken off his back for a while.

And while the majority of his concern was for those below him in rank, he had plenty of concern left over for the one person above him. While B was no longer fighting to climb higher, he could only see Near as a threat to that position. Near fully expected the teenager to take pre-emptive measures against that, and give him two directions to need to guard.

Except it never came. The most interaction he had with the elder boy was restricted to that day in the Odd Room when B had sat watching him piece together a puzzle. Oh, he was still around, no doubt, but he never spoke to Near. Nor was he, so far as Near could tell, responsible for any of the little torments he put up with throughout the day. Although… the way B hung around the place was somewhat worrisome. Near was almost positive that it was a new behavior, and not just a heightened awareness that was making him take note of it. B was spending a lot of his time observing. Specifically, observing Near, and it always seemed to be when he was in the middle of some of his more compromising positions. After being locked outside for several hours in the rain, B was the one to let him in, silent but watching his face minutely. After a particularly vicious back-and-forth between himself and Mello in the library, Near turned a corner to discover the dark haired boy leaning against the shelves, making no attempt to conceal his eavesdropping. And when Near had been picking himself up from the ground at the foot of the stairs, B had been there, too. He didn't offer to help the younger boy, or seemed concerned that he'd just taken a rough roll down the steps. He just looked curiously from Near to the top of the stairs and back again, and then wandered off.

It was a new hobby that he had taken up, but perhaps one that made a certain amount of sense. B had been robbed of his companion, and therefore his primary outlet. That he would seek out some kind of new pastime he could do on his own was plausible, and people-watching, while limited within the Wammy House, was one likely to be lauded by the Institution as practical for the future.

Still, Near didn't particularly enjoy being the object of B's observations. It was the way he would stare, unblinking and expressionless, it made Near feel a bit like a cell under a microscope. His examiner was distant, detached from him, and whatever sorts of conclusions were being drawn about him, they would never be shared with him. Why share your observations with the contents of a petri dish? And his nagging worry that B would at some point decide to make sure Near stayed firmly at the number two spot didn't leave him feeling any less edgy. There was just no reason to trust him.

So when at the end of the day he went back upstairs to his room, ready to finally have some time when he could relax and enjoy a game or two before diving into his assignments, he found B, his guard snapped up into place immediately. The dark eyed teen was there, in the center of Near's whiter than white room, turning a slow, full circle while holding that odd posture of his, his gaze going over absolutely everything there was to be seen. Near could practically see him cataloguing it all in his memory.

Near stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the intruder, wondering if now was the time he'd been anticipating for so long, if B intended something untoward to happen by his visit. It was strange, seeing the dark, habitually disheveled boy standing in his clean, white room, it was unsettling, and he wondered, fleetingly, if his room would ever feel like a safe haven again after finding someone so blithely intruding.

As Near watched, B completed a full turn, his gaze never remaining still for very long as he rotated, and he stopped, facing Near. For a moment the two of them just stared at one another, Near in confusion and apprehension, B with that same blank look that had been his set expression for weeks.

Deciding that the sooner they began talking, the sooner B would leave and grant him some respite, Near spoke first. "Hello, B."

B slowly blinked. "Hello, Near." There was no hint in his tone to suggest he was aware of the bizarreness of his actions, or that he might feel awkward in being caught at them.

Without stepping over the threshold, Near leaned in to look the room over from side to side. Nothing looked like it had been moved or fooled around with, but he wouldn't know for sure until he'd had a chance to look through everything very carefully. He pulled back again to look at Beyond, who hadn't moved. "What are you doing her, B?"

"I could ask you the same thing," B replied, tone serious.

Near blinked. "This is my room."

The elder boy nodded. "Yes, it is. But that's probably not _why_ you're here. There could be many reasons _why_ you're here, and I might be curious which reason it happens to be."

Near wondered if B ever gave a question a straight answer. "I came here to rest between classes," he said, still refusing to enter beyond the doorframe.

"Ah," Beyond nodded, as though some great mystery had been solved.

Near waited for more, for a reply to _his_ question, but it never came. "And what are you doing here, B?" he prodded after a minute.

"Because it's your room," Beyond said absently. "I wanted to see what it looked like, to see if it resembled you more than you do." He gave Near and unreadable expression. "I'm somewhat disappointed."

"I'm sorry my room is so expressionless," Near said drily. What did that mean? To see if his room 'resembled him more than he did'? Was that meant to be some kind of riddle or was it just Beyond being his cryptic self? Whichever it was, Near was coming to realize just how tiring it was to be around. A must have had the patience of a stone, he mused.

Beyond nodded again, then raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stand out in the hallway all day?"

To be frank, Near had been considering it, at least until B left. It felt strange just to see anyone besides himself in that room, to share the space as well could be downright uncomfortable. But then, so was standing out in the hallway, just waiting for someone to notice him and get curious. Never looking away from Beyond, Near inched his way across the threshold into his invaded sanctum. For his own part, B didn't so much as twitch or look askance at Near's cautious entrance.

Once inside, Near did look around a little, trusting his memory to tell him if anything had changed since that morning. From the looks of things, B hadn't touched anything. He couldn't decide if that was good, bad, disturbing or merely baffling. Why come into a room sneakily just to _look_ at it, what was the point? For that matter, why linger so long that he was caught? B knew Near's schedule well enough to know when to expect him back. That supposed carelessness combined with his complete lack of surprise when Near arrived could only mean that he'd been waiting for Near, and his purpose involved the boy directly. Near tried to keep his face neutral at the prospect.

"Do you know," Beyond said, staring at the blank walls, "that excluding my own and A's, this is the first personal room I've ever been in?"

Near could well believe it. It was hard to imagine anyone inviting B into their room. Even if his intelligence wasn't intimidating in itself, his mannerisms were unsettling. "Usually people wait until they're invited before they come into someone else's room."

"So I've been given to understand. But it occurred to me that if I waited for that particular set of circumstances, then I might never get to see your room, and I was awash with curiosity. Besides," he added with a twitch of his lips. "I'm not a vampire. I don't _require_ an invitation."

The younger boy leaned against the wall, glad to have something solid at his back and the door close at one hand. "It's more of a case of good manners to wait for an invitation, respecting privacy."

Beyond scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "'Respecting privacy'? Piffle. Since when have we, _any_ of the various 'we' of this Institution, cared for personal boundaries? It doesn't enter into the program, Near. Quite the opposite."

Near paused, then shrugged, conceding the point. Wammy's was raising them to be investigators and crime fighters, not perfect hosts. There was little room for privacy in such a profession, save when the law decided to take too heavy a hand in the investigations. "Fine, then. No invitation or patience to try and solicit one, because you were so curious about my room."

"Correct."

"Mine. But not anyone else's?"

A toss of shaggy black hair. "No."

Near's eyes narrowed. "Why? Why the particular interest in my room and not anyone else's?"

"Oh, I should have thought that was quite obvious." The boy turned away from him, apparently choosing to look around the plain room rather than at the plain albino. "A room is a good mirror for the person who lives in it. One's personality can often be read where they spend the majority of their time. If I had a particular interest in your room, then I think it should be evident: I have a particular interest in _you_."

Near was suddenly very glad Beyond wasn't facing him, that his black eyes weren't boring into him just then. In that moment he felt his heart speed up, was sure there was some kind of betraying tell-tale on his face. So this _was_ the moment he'd been dreading after all. This was when B decided that he would turn his energies against him and he wasn't going to even try to be subtle about it, either. He was coming straight out with his animosity.

Near swallowed, making sure his voice was as steady and monotone as ever when he replied. "A particular interest in me? I doubt there's anything about me you don't already know, B. You've been a part of the Institution since before I arrived. You've had plenty of opportunity to observe me."

"This is true," B admitted. "And I do have a fairly comprehensive understanding of your habits, as well as a good portion of everyone else is. However, I do find myself wondering at some of your other behaviors. You personality, to be exact."

"You mean that thing you said I had a crippling lack of?" Near made his tone even flatter, stressing the point.

"Exactly," Beyond turned his head slightly to look back at Near, casting his profile into sharp relief against the window in front of him. "In the course of observing you more closely, I've come to wonder at the true purpose of it. Oh, I know I theorized before," he said, brushing away the objection forming on Near's lips. "But I've had cause to think a little deeper than before. I still believe that your reclusiveness is greatly due to your attempt to become the best, but that's not all there is to it."

The conversation was taking a different turn than he was expecting, but one that felt familiar, as well. He stifled a sigh. "And what would make you think that?"

For a minute, B did not reply, and they sat in uncomfortable silence, Near staring at the stooping curve of B's back while he stared out the window to the Orphanage grounds. Finally he turned back to Near, onyx eyes locked on him, one thumb pressed against his lips in a childish gesture. "Why don't you ever fight back?"

Near blinked at the abrupt question. "What?"

"In the last few weeks," he said, speaking around his thumb, "you have been subjected to an unusual amount of bullying from our fellow Wammys. It has always been present, but never to this degree or to this level of viciousness. On top of which I know that you, along with every other potential heir, have received the 'buckle down and strive' orders from on high. With all of this stress piling on your little shoulders, I would have thought that you would have lashed out, worked to secure your place, or at least defended yourself. But you haven't." Beyond's head tilted just a little, his body language adding the question mark his tone had left off.

"I've never been one for physical confrontation," Near murmured, his anxiety mounting the longer Beyond remained. He didn't know where B was leading with all of this, but he had a hunch he would not enjoy it in the least.

The black eyes glittered, taking in all of Near's slight frame. "No. I can see where that would be the case. But even a mouse will fight when pressed into a corner, which is rapidly what you are becoming."

Near bridled at the comparison. A mouse! A little white lab mouse was what he supposed B thought of him as, as well. "I," he said, keeping a tight rein on himself, "am a pacifist."

"If that were true then you wouldn't have survived this place so long. Even if you take the route of complete non-aggression, the mentality of this place would have crushed you a long time ago. Never mind what it is we all struggle to attain, the chance to be the greatest detective, who is, at heart, a fighter. If you were a pacifist, then you wouldn't be trying so hard."

Near was silent, unable to think of a good rebuttal. The truth was, he had never thought his own behavior out in this way, and wasn't sure how to react to the revelations B was throwing at him. Revelations that were, he realized, feeling quite close to the mark. He shifted uncomfortably, and then jumped when Beyond was suddenly right in front of him.

"You're pale," B said mildly into his face. "It's unhealthy."

The back of Near's head throbbed where it had struck the wall trying to back away from Beyond. He tried to focus on his sudden change of topic, his equilibrium slipping away from him. "Yes," he said in a kind of daze. "It's a common feature in albinism. No pigmentation: pale skin."

"No, not the way you are." To Near's relief, B backed away from him again, giving him breathing space. "You aren't just pale in the physical sense; you _project_ paleness all around you. Your room, your behavior, your emotions, your clothes, all the way down to the way you talk, it's all a blank slate, an unpainted mask." He eyed the boy up and down. "It's most definitely feigned, this image you are choosing to present the world. The question is: what exactly is the image you are trying to project? Is it one of innocence, or of weakness, of cleanliness, of apathy… or of invulnerability?"

Near felt his chin rise, and damned the involuntary, defiant motion. It gave a confirmation to B's wild guesses. The way Beyond's expression lightened told him that the implications were not lost on the older boy.

"If that's what you think," he said stiffly, "then it seems that your curiosity has been satisfied. Even if the conclusions are wrong," he added.

The elder boy smiled at the small attempt at deception. "I wouldn't say that," he said. "I wouldn't say that at all. If anything, it just brings up whole new questions."

"Such as?"

"Would you like to join forces?"

"What?"

"Well…" Beyond spun in place on his toes and allowed himself to slowly fall over, landing in a lanky heap on Near's bed. He lay stretched out, totally comfortable, and addressed the ceiling. "'Join forces' isn't quite right. It's more of an offer of mentorship, but the phrase 'take you under my wing' is just so trite. I guess it's the best we're going to get, though. I will take you under my wing, as it were, and teach you what I know. Even A wasn't as close to L in a lot of ways as I am, so that's a big gain for you. With the extra tutelage the instructors and Roger should ease off, plus the bonus of possibly having a 'big brother' protection effect so the other Wammys will think twice before pushing you down any stairs."

Gaining back any sense of balance seemed a long distant possibility, now. Beyond was offering to _help_ him? Not only not warning him to keep his lowly place, but offering to help him, deliberately raising up his own competition? Years of the Institution's particular mindset being drilled into him wouldn't accept it. There had to be more to B's offer than met the eye. "Why would you do that?"

Beyond stared at the ceiling, his hands weaving patterns in the air over his face. "I see a huge amount of potential in you," he said distantly. "Possibly more than even our wonderful wardens, who only look at the fleshless numbers of exam results and dry psych reports. I see… more than most."

"Why should I accept?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't trust you," he said simply. If they were going to be so direct and lay their cards on the table, then he might as well call a spade a spade.

Beyond seemed unperturbed by his bald statement. "Ah, that. Trust isn't really required. In fact, accepting your own trust issues at the outset could be a good thing. Take the offer, but also take everything I say with a grain of salt." He shrugged, dropping his hands to rest in the sheets above his head. "I would be surprised if such was _not_ the case."

Near considered that. It meant that Beyond knew – and expected – everything he taught him to not be taken on blind faith that it was true. Would that have an effect on what B taught him, or how it was presented? Probably, but he would need some time to think through the how's.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out by way of stalling. "Why should I accept your offer?"

"Because it's an advantage for you, and you are sorely lacking any of those right now. It's plain that while you aren't employing any of those little terror tactics known as bullying, others are not so scrupulous. It puts you at a disadvantage. Yes, you have your big brain going for you, but brains aren't everything. I don't know how aware you are of this, but you've pretty much become the target for every single Wammy in the building."

"I had noticed some of that," Near grumbled ruefully.

"Then you can see what having an ally of sorts would do for you," B pointed out reasonably. "Especially if that ally was highly placed. While there are plenty who will use underhanded tactics, very few have allies to speak of. Fewer still would even consider accepting any assistance if it were offered them," he added darkly. "Too much pride."

Near jumped to hear his own thoughts echoed so precisely. _Mello_, he thought immediately. He certainly used bullying – _oh, he certainly did_, he thought, rubbing an old bruise – but he couldn't see him ever accepting help. He was on a mission to prove himself, and if he achieved anything under any power other than his own, it didn't really count. He was too proud to give credit to anyone other than himself, but not too proud to use underhanded methods. Near was too… well, he supposed it was proud, to use those same methods. Was he also too full of himself to take a helping hand when it was offered to him?

It would help even the odds if he accepted, but it was almost worth it just to say that he could do something Mello couldn't. Or wouldn't, at least.

He looked at Beyond, and found the teenager had grown very, very still, watching him closely as the younger boy worked through the pros and cons. His stillness and his stare unsettled Near a little. It was like he was worried about something, projecting an air of patient, attentive watchfulness in every line of his face.

_Only one more question_, he thought.

"What do you get out of all this?"

If Near had hoped to get some sort of reaction from the question, then he was disappointed. Beyond's face was a frozen mask. "I could say that it was out of the kindness of my heart," he said eventually. "Or that I'm uncomfortable in my position as number one Wammy, that I crave companionship and have chosen you, or that I'm _so_ uncomfortable that I'm grooming you as a replacement. Maybe I'm just incredibly bored and this is what I've chosen to distract myself." He smiled. "But none of those are quite right, are they? So… let's just call it my curiosity again, and that by doing this, it will be satisfied."

"You're just doing this for curiosity?" Near asked, incredulous.

"More or less." The smile became mischievous. "Aren't you curious, too?"

"…Yes."

…

…

_**A/N2:**__ Well, there we are. It seems like so little for such a long wait, but ah well. Hopefully part three won't have such a severe case of gaposis. Real disease. Trust me. ;)_

_Title Quote:__ This is from _Home_ by Three Days Grace._

_Relation to Other Fanfiction Timelines:__ I believe I said before, that this story isn't actually tied to any of my other __Death Note__ fanfictions. However, I do have a bunch of previous timelines and 'fic canon' things just in the background while writing this that are probably sneaking in. These are two that I've caught:__  
>- Beyond and A (not Any):<em>_ I'm using the basic relationship setup between these two that I had used in __What's My Name?__, including the reasons for A's suicide. It's not terribly important to the current plot, or if it becomes important I'll go more into it during the story, but if you're curious, it's all there. (Wink, hint, wink.) However, I'll never be calling A 'Any' which was his fic name in __WMN?  
>- N, M, &amp; M Joining Wammy's:<em>_ There have been quite a few fics that I've written about the three Wammy boys, and eventually they were given a basic and somewhat vague background as to how they joined Wammy's, in what order and how they interacted in the early days. In a nutshell: Near came first, Matt second, Mello third, and after the first few days of adjustment, Mello rose above Matt and stalled out. Anyone who is curious, there's more of this in __Ghostly__._

_First vs Fourth Generations:__ This was something that was mentioned in __LABB Murder Cases__, so it's real canon, not just my head canon. ;) Beyond Birthday and A were of the first generation of Wammy's Kids and Mello, Matt and Near were all fourth._

_Near's Attitudes on Bullying vs Help:__ Right, so while I don't have anything that actually says straight out that this is how Near would behave in this situation, I think it very likely. Why? Well, mostly because of his refusal, towards the end of __Death Note__, to just kill Light Yagami. If I remember right, his wording was something close to 'We'll do this right, because we're the good guys.' If I'm wrong, feel free to point it out… but I'm not changing it. ;P_

_Atropa Belladonna:__ The fancy, scientific name for Belladonna, also known as Deadly Nightshade. It's a very pretty and highly toxic plant native to Europe, North Africa and Western Asia. (Hurray Wiki for some of the details on this!)__  
>- Scopolamine:<em>_ One of the toxins present in Belladonna, which can cause hallucinations and delirium. It's also used as a base for medicines that treat things like motion sickness and belly cramps. But don't chew on them if you're feeling sick, please. It'll just make you see little purple men and possibly kill you. :(_

_Near's Albinism:__ Again, no, there's nothing canon that I know of that confirms Near as an actual albino, but that's how I've always portrayed him, so we're sticking with it. And yes, in case you're wondering, it is possible for albinos to have dark eyes, but they will show as red in flash photography. :3_

_**And just a reminder, while I'm trying to pick up my pace, updates are still likely to be wide spread. Sorry, but I'll try my best to be a bit more timely. **_

_**Thanks for reading, everybody, see you all in Part III!**_


End file.
